Weekend Wife (6 page)

Ty grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

Unable to miss the teasing gleam in his eye, Emily pursed her lips. “I’ll sleep with the girls on the ship.”

“Don’t you think Roxanne will wonder why a married couple would sleep in separate cabins?”

It was a valid point, she knew. “I guess I could go to your cabin for appearances, and then, when the coast is clear, scoot over to their cabin.”

“Works for me.” Ty smiled easily. “Does this mean you’ll take the job?”

“If you’ll feed us and get us medicine when we need it, then, yes, I’ll help you.”

“I’d do that anyway.”

Emily believed he would.

He toyed anxiously for a moment with the pillow at his side. “Uh, Emily...”

“Yes?”

“I told her we were newlyweds. High school sweethearts. She thinks we decided to tie the knot just before I moved out here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. My file says I’m single, so she has to think it just happened. I...just wanted to let you know. So that we can...act like...you know...”

“Newlyweds?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, clearly embarrassed. “You know, sort of, well, lovey-dovey.”

Just what did he have in mind? Emily wondered. Surely no passionate public displays of affection. Probably just a little hand-holding here and there. She would do the best she could, and keep her emotions out of it. If the job required a little “newlywed” behavior on her part, well, then she’d do it. For Carmen. For Helga. And she’d stay emotionally detached. She glanced up at his hopeful, boyish face. Well, she’d try, anyway.

Before she knew she’d opened her mouth, she found herself agreeing. “Okay. You’re hiring me to be your new bride, I’ll be your new bride. In public we’re, uh, lovey-dovey. In private, we’re just, um, employer and employee.”

He was visibly relieved. “Terrific. I promise to be a perfect gentleman,” he said, and grinned. “What about Helga? Do you think she’ll go along with it?”

“Helga is a good sport. I think as long as you treat her fairly, she’ll do the same for you.”

“Great. And Carmen?”

“Carmen will love you.”

“Okay, then.” He extended his hand across the coffee table. “Deal?”

Emily knew she was probably in way over her head here, but since when had that ever stopped her from rushing in where angels feared to tread?

“Deal.” She returned his strong, warm grip. A grip that he held a fraction longer than necessary before he let it drop.

“Emily?”

“Hmm?” For the first time in days, she felt as if she could truly relax. Settling back on Tyler’s big, overstuffed couch, she curled her legs up underneath her and studied his curious face.

“How is it that you three came to be standing on the freeway together today?”

He was fishing for information. Information she couldn’t give him if she were to maintain the integrity of her thesis. The idea was to be homeless. Completely homeless. That meant not telling anyone, for a solid month, about her research project. It meant living the life as if she had no other choice. As much as she longed to confide in Ty that she wasn’t some poor, wandering soul, she couldn’t. She was in it too deep to break the rules now. Maybe someday she could tell him the truth. Till then, she was homeless. At his mercy.

“We needed to eat,” she said evasively.

“I got that much.” He smiled. “I mean, what happened to bring the three of you together in the first place? Why are you all living on the street?”

That was a good question. One she wished she knew the answer to. One she hoped her project could help answer in some small way.

“Well...” She decided to be truthful up to a point. “Carmen’s mother and father died last winter of TB.”

“Really?”

“Believe it or not, in this day and age.” She shook her head sadly. “And Helga’s husband committed suicide several years ago, leaving her penniless. She had nowhere to go.

“I found them huddled together under a freeway overpass a while ago. Some gang members had been hassling me, and Helga offered me refuge in her tent.” She shivered at the memory. If it hadn’t been for Helga’s kooky street smarts, Emily was sure she’d have been killed. She owed the old woman her life, and vowed to get her off the streets if it was the last thing she ever did.

“What about you?” he asked gently. “How did you end up out on the streets?”

“Me?” Emily laughed. “I’m not that interesting, I’m afraid. Just...ran out of luck, I guess.” Wanting to take the spotlight off herself, she said, “Thank you for taking us in. You don’t know what your help means to me.”

“I could say the same to you.” He flashed her a relieved and happy smile.

“Well, I don’t know about that. But I will promise to hold up my end of the bargain.” Her face grew quite serious as she stood. “As if my life depended on it.”

Looking at her curiously, he also stood and walked with her to the stairs. “Me, too,” he said, and knew that it was true.

Just before mounting the stairs, she smiled and whispered, “Good night.”

“‘Night,” he called after her as he watched her go, his shirt teasing her graceful legs as she danced up the stairs.

Friday, July 22. Late evening.

Dear Diary:

My study has suddenly taken a left turn. I don’t know if this is good or bad yet. However, I have decided to see where this change of events takes us.

I wanted to maintain the integrity of this study by being as authentic as possible and, so far, I have lived the life. I can only surmise that if I were truly homeless, and Tyler Newroth had seen me at the side of the road, I would be here anyway. However, I can’t help but wonder what I will learn about being homeless from the deck of a cruise ship. Hopefully it will all come together.

So, I will see where this experience takes us, and continue to pray that eventually Helga and Carmen will find homes of their own. As far as I can tell, Ty seems like a good man. I’ve decided to trust him, and feel that we can maintain a working relationship of sorts, even though I’m sure some aspects of our ruse will be awkward.

“G
ood morning.”

“Good morning.” Ty looked out from behind his morning edition of the
Times,
to find Emily standing uncertainly in the dining room doorway. Still damp from her morning shower, she looked as lovely as a rose, clad only in his white terry-cloth robe. She had a bundle of dirty laundry tucked under her arm.

“I hope you don’t mind.” She smiled warily, glancing down at his robe. “It was hanging in the guest bathroom.”

“No. That’s fine.” Ty folded his paper and motioned for her to join him at the breakfast table. “I haven’t hired a cook yet, so I’m afraid it’s just cereal this morning.”

“Cereal will be fine.” The way her eyes swept over the half-dozen different kinds of cereal on the table told him that it was more than all right with her. But still, she made no move to sit down.

“Where are Helga and Carmen?” he asked, glancing behind her. He’d have thought Helga would have plowed through several bowls, including his, by now.

“Actually—” she shifted her eyes to the load she held in her arms “—they’re upstairs taking a bath. I was wondering if you’d mind if I popped our clothes into your washer, while they bathe. These are Carmen’s and mine. Helga wears mainly plastic, so...”

“Sure. No problem.” Ty hopped up from the table and led Emily back to his laundry room. Too bad there was no pot-scrubber setting on his clothes washer, he mused as he poured twice the recommended amount of detergent into his machine, and stuffed in the filthy, tattered garments. “What do you want to do about Helga’s clothes? I have a garden hose out back,” he suggested teasingly.

Emily laughed. “Well, for the time being, if you had another bathrobe, she could wear that till we figure out what she wants.”

“Sure. Just look in my closet.” At her dubious expression, he chuckled easily. “Don’t worry,” he said joshingly, “I keep the whips and chains in the garage.”

“That’s a relief.” She smiled.

Her smile was radiant in the sunshine that streamed in through his laundry room window. She looked amazingly natural, standing there in his robe, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. It was hard to believe that she’d been living on the street only yesterday. And yet she seemed so fresh and innocent and unscarred. He still couldn’t believe his luck. Hopefully, Roxanne would never be able to doubt a face like this.

“Did you tell Helga about the cruise and everything?” Ty asked, and braced himself for the bad news. He had a feeling the old bird would pitch a fit, for some reason.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“What’d she say?”

“Um...I can’t exactly repeat what she said, but I think she’ll be okay. Eventually.” Emily smiled at his dubious expression and reached out to give him a reassuring pat on the arm. “Don’t worry. When I told her about all the food on a cruise ship, she wanted to know how soon we were going to leave.”

Tyler rubbed at the knots between his shoulder blades. Sometimes he wondered if he’d have been better off forgoing his promotion and staying in Boston. No amount of money was worth this stress. Oh, well, since there was no way he would ever be able to control Helga, he might as well give up and relax. And, on the bright side, if she misbehaved too badly, it just might be his ticket back to Boston and away from Roxanne.

The washer had finished filling with hot water and was busy churning the dirt out of the pathetic rags it held.

Turning to leave the laundry room, Ty tucked his hand through Emily’s arm and drew her into the hallway. “Luckily, we don’t have to leave for over a week. But we have a lot to do before then. Why don’t we talk about it over breakfast?” he suggested, and led Emily back to the dining room.

* * *

Maxime’s Impressionistic Hair. How Tyler had managed to fast-talk them into this, Emily would never know. Yet, here they sat, all three of them, sacrificial lambs awaiting slaughter at the ring-encrusted hands of Maxime and his merry band of shampooers.

Helga had nearly sent Ty into a fit of apoplexy that morning at the breakfast table when she’d none-too-graciously declined his invitation to a day at the hair-dresser’s and the mall for a new wardrobe.

“If them stuck-up co-workers of yours don’t like my hair, then they can just kiss my split ends!” she’d crabbed at the red-faced and flustered Ty. “I won’t go one inch out of my way for that bunch of snobs. No, sir.”

It wasn’t until after breakfast that Emily was able to take her aside and convince her that it was in Carmen’s best interest to go along with Ty’s request.

“It sure is easy to get him all riled up,” Helga had said with a grin after she’d grudgingly capitulated.

“Yes, and I notice that you go out of your way to do it,” Emily’d admonished good-naturedly.

Helga had hooted. “He’s kinda cute when he’s all red in the face, don’t you think?”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Sure. And I’m Mrs. Trump.”

“Here.” Pink-cheeked, Emily had thrust a pair of Ty’s sweats at the impish woman. “Put these on.”

With much pomp and circumstance, Helga had managed to squeeze her rotund figure into Ty’s sweats, saying, “I like my men with a little more meat on their bones.”

“He’s not skinny.”

“Really?” Helga had teasingly tweaked her on the nose. “And here I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

When they had arrived at the salon, Ty had handed Maxime his credit card and told him to “give them the works.” Then the coward had turned tail and run, Emily fumed, as though the smell of the perm solution would somehow render him impotent.

The diamonds on Max’s gigantic rings flashed as he ran his hands through her long, thick, satiny hair. “Oh, gad! This stuff is
gorgeous!
I would
kill
for hair like this! Ralph! Come here, man. Will you look at this hair? It’s to
die
for!” Swirling his fingers through her luxurious hair, Emily watched Max in the mirror as his eyes rolled back into his head in ecstasy. “What would you do with it?” Max asked the expressionless Ralph.

“Cut it off.” Casting an apathetic glance in her direction, Ralph shrugged and blew a stream of cigarette smoke at the ceiling.

“Yes! That’s
exactly
what I was thinking!” Max shrieked in delight.

“Wha—” Emily gasped in horror, but was too late.

Max’s expert shears flashed with the precision of a samurai’s sword, and before she knew what hit her, her crowning glory landed in her lap.

“You can give that to lover boy as a souvenir,” Max chortled before yanking her backward into the shampoo bowl.

Emily bit back the tears as Max shampooed and rinsed, snipped and clipped, permed and highlighted, styled and spritzed. It was all part of the experiment, she told herself, attempting to swallow past the thickening in her throat. Of course she could sacrifice her beautiful head of hair in the name of research. It was for a good cause.

Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she tried to shut out Max’s loud, flamboyant self-proclamations of genius, and wondered absently how Helga and Carmen were faring. Every so often, over the whine of a blow-dryer, she could hear the older woman’s bawdy cackle as something would tickle her funny bone. At least someone here was having some fun, she thought grumpily.

“I
love
it!” Max, braying like a donkey, stood back and critically eyed his handiwork. “It’s you, it’s you,
it’s you!
No, no. Don’t look yet,” he chided, spinning her chair away from the mirror. “I want you to get the full effect after Ralph has done your makeup. You’re really lucky that he’s here today. Usually he’s out on some movie set, doing Michelle or Demi or Julia or
somebody.
” He winked conspiratorially at her.

While Ralph applied his rather passionless art to the canvas of her face, Emily wondered what was keeping Ty. Hopefully, he’d show up soon so that she could give him another black eye.

* * *

Ty slammed the door to his Mercedes and set the security system before entering the cool, dark interior of Maxime’s Impressionistic Hair. Beauty salons gave him the willies, so he’d opted to spend the morning filling Carmen’s prescription for antibiotics and making a late lunch appointment for the four of them at a popular seafood restaurant on the coast. It would be a good place to practice the art of eating out, he reasoned, thinking about the numerous formal meals they all had to get through on the cruise ship.

When he’d left his new “family” in the care of Maxime’s capable—he hoped—hands, he’d had no idea what to expect. He just knew they had to look better than the motley crew he’d picked up at the side of the road yesterday afternoon. Nothing on earth, however, could have prepared him for what he found.

For there, waiting patiently in the lobby with two people he supposed were Helga and Carmen, was Emily.

And she was gorgeous.

Drop-dead, traffic-stopping, steal-your-breath-away gorgeous. He was positive she could walk into any modeling agency in the country and land a job. Yes, his heart pounded in his chest triumphantly, Roxanne would
hate
her.

Her chic new hairdo gave her a level of sophistication that most women strived for, but just missed, all their lives. Short, but not too short, its soft highlights glowed golden, a wispy frame for her cover-girl-quality face. Thick, dark eyelashes now surrounded her expressive brown eyes, and her alabaster complexion was offset only by her full, sensuous, plum-colored lips.

Ty felt his blood surge suddenly hot as he stared at her, and remembered the way she’d felt in his arms yesterday during their impromptu wrestling match.

“Hi,” he breathed, feeling suddenly shy in the presence of this incredibly classy woman. “You look...you’re...” Ty hadn’t felt this awkward around a female since high school. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she murmured as her eyes darted away from his, embarrassed by his close scrutiny.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Max sashayed up to greet Ty and bask in the glory of his success. “Is she stunning or what?” Then he pointed at Carmen. “Come on, honey. Show Daddy your bow.”

Giggling, Carmen spun around to show off her freshly trimmed and washed, midnight black French braid, tied with a large, red velvet bow.

She didn’t look like the same kid at all, Ty marveled, shaking his head and smiling at her tiny, joy-filled face.

Then Max grabbed Ty by the arm and spun him to face Helga. “And, will you just look at Mama here?” He waved an airy hand in the older woman’s direction.

Ty didn’t think his poor heart could take any more shock as he gaped at what must have at one time been “the plastic lady.”

Her salt-and-pepper hair curled in an attractive halo around her lightly made-up face, giving a softness to the features that had lived far too many hard years. Helga now looked every inch the standard-issue mother-in-law.

“Helga, you look fabulous,” he said sincerely, causing her to blush a furious shade of red.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “Save it.”

Without raising an eyebrow, Ty signed the credit-card receipt and thanked Max profusely for a job well done. As he held the door open for his new-and-improved family, Helga paused and called out to one of Max’s wizards.

“‘Bye, Ralph, honey. You crack me up.”

Barely acknowledging her departure, Ralph blew a stream of cigarette smoke at the ceiling and lazily winked in her direction.

* * *

“Uh, do you have to wear
that?
” Ty tugged at his collar. Why couldn’t the old broad ever do anything normally? He glanced over at Emily for assistance.

Emily could only shrug helplessly.

“I don’t see why not,” Helga groused. “This outfit you just bought me cost a bloody fortune. This will keep it like new,” she said, fluffing the large plastic shampoo cape Ralph had given her as a souvenir of her trip to Maxime’s.

“Yes, that’s true.” Ty spoke as politely as he could through his clenched teeth. “But this is a nice restaurant. Not a beauty salon.”

“What’s the difference?”

Ty threw up his hands in exasperation. Let her wear the damn thing. What did he care? He was far too exhausted after a day of chasing three fickle females around a shopping mall with his credit cards to argue. The only bright spot in his entire day had been watching Emily try on swimsuits.

His entire body tingled just thinking about it. She was about the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. If she’d asked, he would gladly have bought her every suit in the store, just to see her try them on. But she’d seemed content with two simple suits that had fit her enticing figure like a glove.

Suddenly realizing where he was, he shook his head slightly to clear the provocative image and darted a glance at Emily. She looked amazingly natural playing the part of the society wife, sitting there, helping Carmen off with her new summer coat.

Sophisticated, poised, and completely in control of the situation. More than he could say for himself, he mused, looking out the restaurant’s huge plate-glass window at the panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean.

He’d have to watch the direction of his thoughts, he chided himself. Otherwise he’d end up the same kind of lust-crazed employer that Roxanne had turned out to be. Nah. He could never be that bad. His eyes slid over to Emily as she smiled her amazing smile at the child. Then again...

Ty was definitely letting the new-and-improved appearance of these three cloud his vision. They were not poised, sophisticated or in control, he thought, wincing as Helga began picking at her teeth with a salad fork. No. They were vagabonds. Wayfarers. Wanderers. He had to keep in mind that they had probably never even seen a salad fork before, let alone used one to eat a salad.

He couldn’t let Emily’s stunning good looks fool him into believing that they were anywhere near ready for Roxanne. They had work to do. And plenty of it. That’s why he’d brought them here today—to practice. And there was no time like the present to begin practicing.

Clearing his throat, Ty addressed his three new family members. “Now then,” he began, feeling like Rex Harrison in
My Fair Lady.
Perhaps they should start with a round of elocution lessons?
The rain in Spain...
Glancing at Carmen, he changed his mind. Nah. Napkins. That’s where they should start.